Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne - two ballads
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English
Documents
2010
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20
pages
English
Documents
2010
Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe Tout savoir sur nos offres
Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne, by George Borrow
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne, by George Borrow, Edited by Thomas J. Wise
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne two ballads
Translator: George Borrow Editor: Thomas J. Wise Release Date: October 7, 2008 Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 [eBook #26833]
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NIELS EBBESEN AND GERMAND GLADENSWAYNE***
Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
NIELS EBBESEN
AND
GERMAND GLADENSWAYNE
TWO BALLADS
BY
GEORGE BORROW
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION
1913 Copyright in the United States of America by Houghton , Mifflin & Co. for Clement Shorter .
p. 4
NIELS EBBESEN.
All his men the Count collects, And from Slesvig marched away; Never such as host was seen Or before or since that day. Into Denmark marched the Count, Followed by so fair a band; Banners twenty-four they bore, Power like theirs might none withstand. Gert the Count to Randers rode, To bad counsel lending ear; For from old it stood foretold, He should end there his career. He would not the place avoid, But seemed bent to tempt his fate; Of the rural lords and thanes ...
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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne, by George Borrow, Edited by Thomas J. Wise
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne two ballads
Translator: George Borrow Editor: Thomas J. Wise Release Date: October 7, 2008 Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 [eBook #26833]
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NIELS EBBESEN AND GERMAND GLADENSWAYNE***
Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
NIELS EBBESEN
AND
GERMAND GLADENSWAYNE
TWO BALLADS
BY
GEORGE BORROW
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION
1913 Copyright in the United States of America by Houghton , Mifflin & Co. for Clement Shorter .
p. 4
NIELS EBBESEN.
All his men the Count collects, And from Slesvig marched away; Never such as host was seen Or before or since that day. Into Denmark marched the Count, Followed by so fair a band; Banners twenty-four they bore, Power like theirs might none withstand. Gert the Count to Randers rode, To bad counsel lending ear; For from old it stood foretold, He should end there his career. He would not the place avoid, But seemed bent to tempt his fate; Of the rural lords and thanes ...
Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne, by George Borrow
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne, by George Borrow, Edited by Thomas J. Wise
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Niels Ebbesen and Germand Gladenswayne two ballads
Translator: George Borrow Editor: Thomas J. Wise Release Date: October 7, 2008 [eBook #26833] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NIELS EBBESEN AND GERMAND GLADENSWAYNE*** Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
NIELS EBBESEN AND GERMAND GLADENSWAYNE
TWO BALLADS BY GEORGE BORROW
L ONDON : PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION 1913 Copyright in the United States of America by Houghton , Mifflin & Co. for Clement Shorter .
NIELS EBBESEN.
All his men the Count collects, And from Slesvig marched away; Never such as host was seen Or before or since that day. Into Denmark marched the Count, Followed by so fair a band; Banners twenty-four they bore, Power like theirs might none withstand. Gert the Count to Randers rode, To bad counsel lending ear; For from old it stood foretold, He should end there his career. He would not the place avoid, But seemed bent to tempt his fate; Of the rural lords and thanes He the quarters up will beat. Knights and freeborn men apart, There trooped eighteen thousand bows; Forty thousand made they all, Who could such a host oppose? To Niels Ebbesen the Count Word to appear before him sent; And safe convoy him he gave, Which should doubt and fear prevent. Gert the Count met Ebbesen North of Randers by the sea: “Welcome be, Niels Ebbesen! Say how matters stand with thee.” To Niels stretched the Count his hand, And to parleying straight they go; There was little then of jest, And of dallying less, I trow. “Sir Niels Ebbesen, thou art Welcome as the flowers in s rin ;
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How stand minds in North Jutland, Thence what tidings dost thou bring? “Say how all thy wealthy friends And thy heart’s loved lady are; Which dost wish for at my hands, Smiling peace, or bloody war?” “Well stand minds in North Jutland, Each man’s courage there’s erect; Say, dost come as friend or foe? What from thee may we expect? “I have kindred in the North, Men of wealth and noble race; Shouldst thou it require of them They’ll be ready for thy Grace.” “Wise art thou, Niels Ebbesen, And thy prudence none can doubt; When thou canst not straightway hit Widely then thou ridst about. “Hear thou, Sir Niels Ebbesen, Thou must on mine errand ride; Say, how many men thou hast Brought, on whom thou mayst confide?” “Kindred, Sir, I have, and friends, ’Mongst the hardy Jutlanders; Willingly they follow me To the stormy strife of spears. “I have brought, such as they are, With me thirty mounted men; Be they fewer, or be they more, Dear are they to Ebbesen.” “Hast thou with thee thirty lads? That seems but a scanty force; Yester e’en at Sir Bugge’s Gate Stood’st thou with a hundred horse.” Backward Ebbesen recoiled, And with high flushed cheek replied: “He nor knight nor gentleman Is, who me hath thus belied. “Be it man or woman who To my face dares that to say, Till I’ve answered suitably, Ne’er from him I’ll flinch away.” “Hear thou, dear Niels Ebbesen, We thereof will talk no more;
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To thy friend Sir Bugge ride, Him to serve me true win o’er.” “If your errand I shall do, And to Bugge bold repair, From thy part what I’m to say First to me thou must declare.” “Bugge bold has me defied, Young Poul Glob has done the same; Anders Frost makes one of them, Him your Chief ’tis said ye name. “And e’en thou, Niels Ebbesen, Certain courtiers hast with thee, Who have eaten of my bread, And have basely quitted me. “First there is young Eske Frost, And his stalwart brothers two; Without leave of mine obtained, From my service they withdrew. “More there are whom I’ve obliged, And who pay me now no heed; If to Bugge’s rede you list Soon ye’ll see how you will speed.” “Nought of Bugge’s rede I know, What he’ll do or leave undone; Eske thy true servant was, Cast no blame that knight upon. “Eske Frost’s a gallant man, Guards his honour like his eye; Sought he his discharge to gain, Why to him didst it deny? “Custom ’tis in Danish land, And has been from days of eld, That the man who will not serve Shall not be to serve compell’d. “No two things, save Monk and cowl, Are for aye together tied; As they loathe or like their place Courtmen ride away or bide.” It was Count Sir Gert, could not Such like reasoning understand: “No one ought to quit his lord Whilst that lord would him command. “And, Sir Niels, too long thou hast Here stood idly chattering;
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Either thou shalt Denmark quit, Or thou shalt on gallows swing. “’Neath safe convoy since thou’rt come Thou shalt go withouten hurt; To thy cost else thou should’st learn What it is to anger Gert ” . “I thy princely passport hold, Whether it avail or not; If thou do me aught of harm, Infamy thy name will blot. “Thieves mayst thou on gallows hang, To be torn by carn and crow; For thy threat from native land, Wife, and child, I will not go. “But if me from native land And my wife and babes you chase, Thou shalt soon, for certainty, Rue thou e’er hast seen my face!” “Ride away, Sir Ebbesen, Quickly hence thyself betake, Or I will, as well I can, On thy skull the helmet break. ” “None e’er saw me so adread But that I could tremble still, [12] Hear, Count Gert! look to thyself, Guard thee from approaching ill.” “Ebbesen, thou tirest me, Suffering thus thy tongue to run; Till to-morrow thou art safe, Even till the set of sun. “This, and the next day till eve, Thou for me shalt be at rest; But no belted knight am I If I be not soon thy guest.” Swift away rode Ebbesen, Shook his iron-gloved fist in air: “That I soon shall come again, Good Sir Count, in memory bear.” Forward rode Niels Ebbesen, Spurred his steed till blood outflew; With his men the Count remained, No one dared the knight pursue. Till he reached his Castellaye, Still he rode withouten rest;
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To his dear Dame he complained, Begged of her her counsel best. “Here thou sitt’st, dear Housewife mine, What advice canst thou bestow? Gert will drive me from the land, Hath declared himself my foe. “To my choice three things he put, Least of all I liked the third; I should join him, or the land Quit, or hang, such was his word.” “Ah! what counsel can I give From my simple woman’s mind? The most desperate counsel’s best, Can we but that counsel find. “The most desperate counsel’s best, If we can but it discover; Either slay the tyrant, or Burn the house the tyrant over. “To the smithy lead your steeds, Let them all be shod anew; Turn ye all the heels afore, Thus your trace will cheat the view. “Turn ye all the heels afore, Track ye thus, I ween, can no man; Never tell to mortal wight, Thou hast learnt this from a woman.” “ Here my gallant swains ye sit, Merry-making o’er your drink; Every lad who loves his lord From his lord now must not shrink.” Up then rose the Courtmen bold, To take on anew agreed; Save Sir Niels’ sister’s son, From his uncle would recede. Swore the knights a solemn oath That for him their lives they’d stake, And with him would dauntless ride Wheresoe’er a fray he’d make. So they rode to Fruerlund, From their steeds they there dismount; Into Randers then they walked, To beat up the hairless Count. It was Sir Niels Ebbesen, To the bridge of Randers came:
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“He who’s loath to follow me Straightway his discharge may claim.” Forward stepped the tiny Frost, Thought the truest of the true: “Give me my dismissal, Sir, Give me horse and saddle too ” . So he sought and got discharge, Saddle got and steed withall; But he served his master best That same day ere evening fall. To the Count’s door rode Sir Niels, Ne’er from that withdrew his look; Thrice thereon with iron lance Heavily the hero strook. “Rise up from thy sleep, my lord! Let me in right speedily; Thy dear brother, Henrik Count, Has dispatched me unto thee.” “By my brother if thou’rt sent, Rest thee from thy journey long; Me to-morrow in the Kirk Meet ’twixt mass and matin song.” “Let your page but at the door Take from me the entrusted scroll; Ribe hard invested is, Colding town is burnt to coal. “Ribe hard invested is, Colding’s burnt, and Vedel’s flung Open to our troops its gate, And Niels Ebbesen is hung.” “If what thou hast told be truth, News it is to make one gay; Thou shalt in respect be held Herald till thy dying day. “Page! no more keep fast the door, Let me on the herald gaze; For that we the land have won Is the sum of what he says.” To the window went the Count, Thence his eye the lances caught: “Ha! Niels Ebbesen’s at hand, Curse the hour I Denmark sought.” Fierce with shields the doors they banged, Burst the locks with frequent blow:
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“Hairless Count! art thou within? Hairless Count, we pledge thee now!” “Set thee down, Niels Ebbesen, We shall things accommodate; Let us send to Henrik Count, And Claus Krummedige straight.” “Not so yesterday didst thou Speak, Sir Count, by Randers strand; Then thou saidst that I should hang, Or should quit my native land ” . Up and spoke the Count’s footpage, Kinsman he to Ebbesen: “By his words if ye be fooled Lost art thou and all thy men. ” Up and spoke the black young page, Black because he was not white: “Straight desist from useless talk, Let, I rede, your faulchions bite.” “I’ve no castles, Sir, which can Such a prisoner long contain; Now, ye men, spare not your swords! Hew at him with might and main!” So the tyrant Count they took, Made him kneel upon the floor; And his bald head off they hewed, Hewed it off the bedstead o’er. Soon as they the Count had slain, Loud the drums the alarum beat; It was Sir Niels Ebbesen From the town would fain retreat. From the town he hasted then, Dared no longer there to stay; Soon met him Sir Ove Hals, And essayed to bar his way. “Do thou hear, Sir Ove Hals! Do to me no injury! Thou my faithful cousin art, Prythee, Ove, let me flee ” . “Our affinity I know Well I know its near degree; But my Lord you’ve foully slain, Niels! I will not let thee flee.” Bleat the sheep, the ganders hiss, Crows the cock upon the wall;
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Ove Hals was sore beset, Must to the Holsteiners call. ’Gainst the Danes he could not stand, Must to the Holsteiners call; “Murdered is your liege the Count Up, and on his butchers fall!” Fight Sir Ove and Sir Niels, Ebbesen he would not fly, He Sir Ove’s head smote off, Left the corse in blood to lie. Ebbesen to Randers bridge Came, there grew the combat hot, There he found the tiny Frost Who had late dismissal got. Niels sped over Randers bridge, Holstein’s men came thronging after; What did then the tiny Frost But the bridge drop in the water. Thanks to Niels’s sister’s son, Well he served his uncle then; In the firth the planks he cast, No bridge found the Holstein men. Niels a widow visited, She’d but barley bannocks two, One she gave to Niels, because He the hairless tyrant slew. Ebbesen! God sain thy soul, Never was a braver Dane; Thou didst free thy fatherland From a foreign tyrant’s chain. Christ bless every gallant man, Who shall both with mouth and hand, In the time of its distress, Seek to serve his fatherland!
GERMAND GLADENSWAYNE
Our King and Queen sat o’er the board In high festivity; Between them there was much discourse About the briny sea. Our gallant King and youthful Queen
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They sailed across the foam; Much better had it been for both That they had stayed at home. But barely they a mile had gone When still the vessel stood, There came a raven wild, who strove, To sink them in the flood. “If any thing the ship doth hold Concealed beneath the main, I’ll give thee, bird, a lump of gold To set it free again. “O do not sink us in the sea, Swart bird,” exclaimed the Queen, “And I’ll give thee a lump of gold Weighs Bismer pounds fifteen.” “Gold and silver I heed them not, I crave another fee, The treasure neath thy girdle fair Thou now must promise me. “Plenty of gold I have myself, From gold no help you’ll find, On what beneath your girdle’s hid I’ve firmly set my mind.” “I give what neath my girdle’s hid, My bunch of keys—what more? I’ll speedily have others forged If I but win to shore.” Then straight she took the little keys And cast them overboard; Away then flew the Raven, glad He had obtained her word. The Queen walks on the yellow sand, Then o’er her came a gloom, She felt that Germand Gladenswayne Was quick within her womb. And from that day when five short months Her head had flitted o’er, The Queen she went to the chamber high, And a lovely son she bore. Born was he in the evening hour, They christened him at night; They called him Germand Gladenswayne, Concealed him whilst they might. They fostered him a winter’s space,
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They fostered him for nine; The fairest youth he grew on whom The sun did ever shine. So well he throve, so well he grew, His horse he well could ride, Whene’er his mother on him gazed So woefully she sigh’d. “Now list to me, my mother dear, One thing I fain would know; Why dost thou sigh so piteously Whene’er I past thee go?” “Now hear thou, Germand Gladenswayne, I’ve cause to be forlorn; Beguiled I gave thee to a fiend Before thou yet wast born.” “And do thou hear, my mother dear, All sorrow cast aside: Whatever be the will of God By that I must abide.” It chanced upon a harvest morn The breezes scarcely stirr’d, That as the chamber door stood ope So wild a yell was heard. In came the laidly bird of prey, And stood the Queen before: “Dost thou remember, gracious Queen, Thy gift to me of yore?” She swore by God, and by the saints, By all that’s good she swore, That son nor daughter in the world She never, never bore. Then flew away the bird of prey, With an eldritch shriek he’s flown: “Whene’er I meet Germand Gladenswayne I’ll remember he’s my own.” When Germand fifteen years had reached He’d fain a damsel wed; He loved the daughter of England’s king, The angel-lovely maid. His longing to be with his plighted maid He might no more withstand: “O how shall I come across the foam To the flood-encircled land?” It was Germand Gladenswayne,
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